Have you ever had one of those weeks were you start off-kilter and finish pretty much in the same position? Well, that’s how the last 7 days have seemed at chez Knollys; stifling, irritating, emotional see-sawing and downright grumpy. And that’s not just me. The dogs seems to be as affected by the week’s imbalance as their Mum. I know my temperamental conversations with the Tony and the universe (the “why me?” is back with a vengeance) could do with a volume control at times but it seems my quieter, mopey moods hit their sensitive spots. Every dog owner knows their pooch is an empathetic creature but it’s easy to forget that my brood haven’t exactly been spared the last year’s rollercoaster ride either.
Callum left for France in the middle of the week which put a downer on everyone. Yogi Bear as many of you know, takes departing of any sort to heart. Suffice to say that I have had to move him onto my bed and pillow to help with his emotional trauma. Whilst the others are less worried about when Callum will return, they are confused about my mental attitude towards feeding time. As far as they’re concerned, the fact that Mum has to trip over at least three of them to get their vital nutritional intake ready for consumption should not result in slanderous language. To help matters, Coco ‘George Clooney’ Loco has developed an uncanny imitation of a barking seal at mealtimes which he can maintain until the bowl appears in front of him.
However I think the biggest bug-bear of the week was the somewhat anti-climatic appearance of the extension floor, well part of it anyway. I was so excited to learn it was finally going down but the realisation that the builders are still way behind put me in a bit of a funk. It’s lovely to look at now the doorway between the hallway and extension is open but we can’t go in, sort of like looking at a swimming pool with no water. It doesn’t help that the long running battle with the solicitor of Tony’s estate rumbles on so budget is still the primary word in my daily mantra. And then there’s the heat. With the dogs and I only having the front garden to sit and roll on, time outside is limited because Mo and Neo see the front gate in the same way Trump sees the Mexican border. Frankly, it’s mortifying to watch innocents jump out of the skin when the two suddenly start their canine equivalent of machine gun noise from behind the fence. I don’t even want to mention the grass or lack of now. Luckily I keep the inside of the house, the bit we can lounge in, cool so the older dogs prefer the more meditative atmosphere of the front room. That is until Arry brings a pet rock in from the front garden and drops it on the newly washed wooden floor…………
“If a dog will not come to you after having looked you in the face, you should go home and examine your conscience.” (Woodrow Wilson 28th President of the United States)
Widow plus woofs 